Year 2000 Award Winner

Having been captured at Fort Donelson
at its surrender to the Federal troops, I was taken with other officers
to Camp Chase at Columbus, Ohio. Our mess consisted of Mr. Jim Bradshaw,
myself, and several other friends.

During the day we amused ourselves
looking at the passing clouds as the fence around the prison was so high.
We could easily direct our thoughts upward which I suppose was intended
that way by our chaplain. At night we employed our time by singing old
familiar songs such as "Home Sweet Home" and "The Girl I Left Behind Me,"
and we were designated by the guards as "the happy family."

Such happiness, however, did not
last long. I had an old friend who was an officer in the Federal Army in
the command of the prison. He and his good wife came to see me and offered
me clothes and money which I gladly accepted. Having been an officer in
the commissary department of the Confederate Army, I found it more convenient
to dress in citizens clothes, as several times I came near being captured,
only evading them by my clothing. Well there came a day when an order was
issued to remove half of the prisoners from Camp Chase to Johnson's Island.
They, finding us gay and happy, divided our mess and took half our "happy
family" away. A few weeks later they issued another order to move more
prisoners to Johnson's Island. This time I had to go.

Standing in line waiting for the
order to move, I engaged two of the guards in conversation and showing
them on the sly two five dollar gold pieces I offered each of them one
of them if they would let me pass out of the lines. The bait was too tempting,
and here my citizens' clothes fulfilled its good mission again for I got
off without detection. Going to a barber shop uptown I got a shave, a shine,
and a hair cut, which greatly improved my appearance and changed me so
much that I looked more like a private citizen than an escaped prisoner.

I arrived at the depot in safety
to find a train going East nearly ready to start. While sitting on the
platform smoking a cigar, an Army officer stepped up hurriedly and scrutinized
me very closely, at the same time telling me of the escape of one of the
prisoners for whom he was hunting. I talked with him and got a good description
of myself as he had heard it. But, about that time, the conductor of the
outbound train yelled out "All aboard" and I arose and stepped on the car
saying as I went, "Goodbye, Colonel, I hope you will find the damned rebel
(no capitals!).

About twilight I had to change cars
and while waiting a man walked up, struck a match and looked me closely
in the face. I struck a match too, and looked him boldly in the face, apologizing
for doing so by saying, "I thought you were my friend Mr. ----." This threw
him off the track as a telegram had reached there to watch for an escaped
Confederate prisoner.

I reached Pittsburgh in safety where
I had a cousin living. I stayed quietly with him for several weeks and
got everything I needed. I dropped my sir name and was known by my middle
name. My uncle at Shelbyville wrote to me to go over to New York on business
for him, which I did, and there many old friends offered me all the money
I wanted or needed.

I was anxious, however, to return
South and join my command so made my way back home to Louisville. Here
I met up with an exchange of prisoners, I fell in with them and got safely
back to Nashville. Here I met my old friend Mr. Tom Freanor, who lived
near the Hermitage. To get me through the lines he provided me with an
old mule and a stick. We took in with us an old German woman to talk to
the German guards. While the old lady kept the guards talking about the
fatherland, I gave my old mule a kick and slowly rode through the Federal
pickets. I spent that night with Mr. Freanor and returned to Shelbyville
the next day to find the Federal Army moving towards Murfreesboro. I remained
at home for a few days and then joined my command in Atlanta.

Laura Keeble (Kibby) Clayton
is the great grand niece of Samual L. Cowan. She says,
"I don't know what the L. in his name stands for. Maybe
my brother or sister do. As for the picture, we know
it is a Cowan ancestorin his Civil War get-up, but
I'm not sure if it's the same man. It is an interesting story. I'm happy
to share it."

Editor's note.
Kibby, who was a very close friend ofours, died in the Spring of 2003
at the age of 56. Allher many friends miss her more than
we can say.
Richard Loller